Shame

22

‘Why didn’t you say something?’

Four days had passed since the bathroom incident, and nobody from the agency had shown up. Now Ellinor was suddenly standing in the hall, and she flung out the question before she even managed to close the front door. The words echoed from the stairwell. Maj-Britt was standing near the living-room window and was so surprised by her own reaction that she didn’t even register that she had just been asked a question.

How she had detested that voice. It had plagued her like an ingenious torture instrument with its inexhaustible flow of words, but now she had a feeling of gratitude. She had come back. In spite of what had happened last time.

Ellinor had come back.

Maj-Britt remained by the living-room window. What she felt was so unfamiliar that she completely lost her bearings, she no longer remembered how you were supposed to act in situations like this, when you actually experienced something that might easily be mistaken for a mild form of happiness.

She didn’t have much chance to think about it because the next moment Ellinor came storming into the room, and it was quite obvious that she wasn’t expecting to be welcomed with delight. Because she was furious. Really fuming. She stared at Maj-Britt and completely ignored Saba, who stood wagging her tail obsequiously at her feet.

‘You have pain in your back, don’t you, where you usually put your hand? Admit it!’

The question was so unexpected that Maj-Britt totally forgot her gratitude and retreated at once to her usual defensive position. She saw that Ellinor had a folded piece of paper in her hand. A piece of lined paper torn from a notebook.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why didn’t you say something?’

‘Are you aware that it’s been four days since the last time you were here? I could have starved to death.’

‘That’s right. Or you could have gone out to the shop.’

Her voice was just as fierce as her gaze, and Maj-Britt realised that something had happened during those four days Ellinor had stayed away. Maj-Britt sensed that it had to do with that piece of paper she was holding. It was so similar to other pieces of paper which had intruded into her flat a while back, and which she was sorry she had ever read. Ellinor must have seen her expression, because now she unfolded the sheet of paper and held it out to her.

‘This was why you thought I knew Vanja Tyrén, right? Because she wrote that you had pain somewhere, so you thought I was the one who told her, right?’

Maj-Britt felt her ears flame red. Since the past had come back she had been almost anaesthetised, it was as if a peculiar gap had formed between all her emotions and what she had suddenly remembered. She sensed that the reprieve was temporary, and now that she saw the paper being held out to her the gap was reduced to nothing more than a thin little membrane. Nothing in the world could make her take it. Nothing.

‘Since you refused to tell me, I wrote to her myself and asked what actually happened, what it was that made you believe she and I knew each other. Today I got her answer.’

Maj-Britt didn’t want to know. No, she didn’t, she didn’t. She had been unmasked. With Ellinor’s letter Vanja had learned that Maj-Britt had actually lied; she now knew what a pitiful failure of a human being Maj-Britt had turned into. But naturally Ellinor did not intend to let her escape. Not this time either. Her voice lashed out the words when she started to read.

‘Dear Ellinor, Thanks for your letter. I’m glad there are people like you out there with a genuine empathy for your fellow human beings. It gives me hope for the future. Most people who are locked in the bathroom by their clients would probably have left the whole thing behind like an unpleasant memory and chosen not to go back there again. I’m glad for Majsan’s sake that she has you, and do try to forgive her. I don’t think she meant as much harm as it may have seemed and the fault is actually mine. I wrote something in a letter that no doubt scared her, and to be honest that was my intention, because I think it might be urgent. I wrote that if Majsan has pain somewhere then she has to seek medical help. I had hoped that she would have already done something about it before she got my letter, but apparently she chose not to, and the choice is naturally her own and no one else’s.’

Ellinor raised her eyes and glared at Maj-Britt, who turned her back and looked out the window. Ellinor continued reading.

‘Now I realise that you probably wonder how in the world I could know this, and I sense that you have already decided to write another letter to ask me. To save you some time I’m answering you now. The only person I’m willing to tell it to is Majsan, and I don’t intend to do so either by letter or telephone. Best of luck, Ellinor. My warmest regards, Vanja Tyrén.’

It was finally quiet. Maj-Britt felt that disgusting lump in her throat. She tried to swallow but it wouldn’t budge, and even grew bigger, forcing tears to her eyes. She was thankful that she had her back to Ellinor so she wouldn’t see. Her weakness would be used against her, she knew that, that’s how it had always been. It was when you dropped your guard that you made yourself most vulnerable.

‘Dear Maj-Britt. Let me ring and make an appointment with a doctor.’

‘No!’

‘But I’ll go with you, I promise.’

Ellinor sounded different now. Not as angry, but concerned instead. She had been easier to deal with when she was angry, when Maj-Britt was fully justified in defending herself.

‘Why should I listen to someone doing life in prison who has some peculiar notion about me?’

‘Because that particular notion is right. Isn’t it? You do have pain in your back. Admit it.’

She hadn’t even sounded angry in the letter. Even though Maj-Britt had lied to her. Vanja still cared about her welfare despite her nasty reply. She felt herself blushing, the colour of shame creeping across her cheeks when she thought about what she had written to Vanja.

Vanja.

Maybe the only person who had really cared about her. Ever.

‘Can’t you at least find out what she knows?’

Maj-Britt swallowed in an attempt to get control of her voice.

‘How? She didn’t want to say, either in a letter or on the phone. And she can’t come here.’

‘No, but you can go to see her.’

Maj-Britt snorted. That was impossible, of course, and Ellinor knew it as well as she did, although she felt she had to suggest it. Just to have an opportunity to emphasise Maj-Britt’s disadvantage. She leaned on the windowsill. She was so tired. So dead tired of having to force herself to keep breathing. The pain had been so constant lately that she had almost grown used to it, accepted it as a natural condition. Sometimes she even experienced it as pleasant, since it took her mind off what hurt even more. Until it got so intense that it was almost unbearable.

Maj-Britt’s knees began to give way and she turned round. The lump in her throat had become manageable and no longer threatened to expose her feelings. She went over to the easy chair and tried to hide the grimace prompted by the pain when she sat down.

‘How long have you been in pain?’

Ellinor sat on the sofa. On the way there she put Vanja’s letter on the table. Maj-Britt looked at it and knew that she would read it again, see the words with her own eyes, the words that Vanja had written. How could she have known? Vanja was no enemy, never had been. She had merely done as Maj-Britt had asked and stopped sending her letters. Not out of anger but out of consideration.

But how could she have known?

‘How long have you been in pain?’

She couldn’t lie anymore. Couldn’t keep it up any longer. Because there was really nothing to defend.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, about how long?’

‘It crept up on me. It didn’t hurt all the time at first, just now and then.’

‘But now it hurts all the time?’

Maj-Britt made one last brave attempt to defend herself by not answering. That was all she could do. She already knew it was futile.

‘Maj-Britt, does it hurt all the time?’

It had lasted five seconds. Maj-Britt nodded.

Ellinor gave a heavy sigh.

‘I only want to help you, don’t you see that?’

‘Well, you are getting paid for it, after all.’

It was unfair and she knew it, but sometimes she said things out of habit. The words were so much a part of her life in the flat that they didn’t even have to be consciously thought before they spilled out. She was actually aware that Ellinor had done a lot more for her than she was really paid to do. A lot more. But for the life of her Maj-Britt couldn’t understand why. And of course Ellinor reacted.

‘Why do you always have to make things so hard? I understand that you have probably had a hell of a lot of trouble in your life, but do you have to make the whole world suffer for it? Can’t you try to make a distinction between those you should hate and those who don’t deserve it?’

Maj-Britt turned to look at the window. Hate. She tasted the word. Who actually deserved her hate? Whose fault had it all been?

Were her parents to blame?

The Congregation?

Göran?

He had understood what happened. He didn’t accuse her straight out, but she remembered the look on his face. Göran’s contempt had soon developed to open hatred. When it was time to move to the flat they had been hoping to get for so long, she had to move alone. And here she had stayed. Hadn’t contacted anyone or given out her new address, not even to Vanja. She had no idea where Göran went after the papers were signed and the divorce granted, and after a couple of years she wasn’t even interested in knowing.

Ellinor sounded rather dejected when she went on; her voice had lost its fire and she started by taking a deep breath.

‘But Vanja’s right, of course. You make your own choices.’

Maj-Britt started at the words.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘It’s your life, isn’t it? You’re the one who decides. I can’t force you to go to the doctor.’

Maj-Britt fell silent. She couldn’t face thinking it all the way through. That it might be life-threatening. That whatever was hurting inside her body might be the beginning of the end. The end of something that had been so totally meaningless, yet she had taken for granted that it would go on.

‘Is it because you don’t want to leave the flat that you won’t go to the doctor?’

Maj-Britt considered this. Yes. That was definitely one reason. The thought of forcing herself out of the flat was terrifying. But it was only one of the reasons; the other was more crucial.

They would have to touch her. She would have to take off her clothes and she would be forced to let them touch her disgusting body.

Suddenly Ellinor straightened up and looked like she had just had an idea.

‘What if a doctor came here?’

Maj-Britt got palpitations from the mere suggestion. Ellinor’s attempt to find a simple solution was backing her into a corner. It would be so much easier just to admit that it was impossible, so that she could renounce all responsibility and not even have to consider making a decision.

‘What sort of doctor?’

Ellinor’s enthusiasm was back, now that she obviously thought she had found a solution.

‘My mother knows a doctor I can call. I’m sure I can get her to come here.’

Her. Then maybe that would be possible to endure. At least maybe.

‘Dear Maj-Britt. Please let me ring and ask her, at any rate. All right?’

Maj-Britt didn’t reply, and Ellinor got more excited.

‘Then I’ll ring her, okay? Just call and see what she says.’

And so apparently some sort of decision was made. Maj-Britt had neither agreed nor objected. She still had the chance to blame everything on Ellinor if things went wrong.

That would make it so much easier to endure.

If there were always someone else to blame.